“We are not real living beings, you know,” Caffeine said, then jerked his head to the side, looking at the door to the room.
“Yeah—but it doesn’t much matter. It’s nice being as we are, at least,” Alcohol said, and sat down on his chair. He stared up at the other two and smiled goofily.
“It matters a little bit,” Nicotine said, parting back his ginger hair. “I, for one, like to be flesh.”
“Oh, well…so do I, but that does not mean that we are.” Caffeine’s words came out rushed and flowing—like he had rehearsed it, but not well, and was trying to get them out as fast as possible before he forgot.
Alcohol laughed. “I did not get that at all.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t,” Nicotine said, taking another white stick from his pack. The other two personifications did not seem to mind the constant white smoke that drifted off his mouth, and the gas did not seem to stay in the room either.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alcohol asked, rising back up, his feet wobbling, but his fists ready and moving in random little motions. “I’ll make you take that back—”
Alcohol let out a little squeak of concern as he slammed down into his seat. Caffeine had moved too fast to really see and had his hand hard on the shoulders of the apparently angry drunk.
“That’s no fair—you’re no fun…” Alcohol muttered.
Caffeine rolled his eyes but kept the being down in the chair. “Just calm down, okay?”
Alcohol answered in the form of snoring loudly, having easily passed out. Nicotine rolled his eyes and puffed out another bit of smoke.
“Well, that works,” Caffeine said, and let go.
“Yes, it did.” Nicotine looked over at the door. “Do you think he’s going to be here soon?”
“I hope so.” Caffeine twitched his shoulders even as he stood mostly still. “Because if not, I am going to be a little nuts.”
“You already are that,” Nicotine said, and then the door clicked slightly.
“Ah, finally,” Caffeine said.
“Hey, there,” came a voice from the doorway. Both the personifications stared as Jimmy walked into the room.
“Hello,” Nicotine said, letting a puff rise over his head. “What’s up with you?”
“Oh, cut it,” Caffeine said, tapping his foot. “You’re here finally—let’s not play, okay?”
“He’s rude, but I do agree,” Nicotine said. “It’s about time you picked one of us.”
Jimmy frowned and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I have to pick one of you?”
Jimmy breathed in, steadied himself, but before he could answer, the air snapped and popped, and more figures stood around, each of them as plain and generic looking at the first three, only, of course, they also had their own quirks.
“He doesn’t have to rush so hard, like, chill,” Weed said, bopping his head. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes.
“Oh, here it comes,” Nicotine said.
Caffeine was gritting his teeth, glancing from face to face.
Heroin leaned on the side of Mushrooms, who was staring into space, softly gasping. “I can see the softness of the cosmos!” Mushrooms decreed, then slumped to the floor.
Cocaine appeared in front of Jimmy, vibrating so hard it was difficult to look at him. “Yeah—but why you do that—Why would anyone do that? Oh, come on now let’s get going on to the way that we should be going—What do you say Jimmy—want to ride the wave of me—I can make it all so sweet and nice!?”
Jimmy surveyed over all of them. At the sleeping, the hyper, and the dozens of others. And then back at the door.
“Um…well…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, guys, but—I can’t…”
The door swung open slightly further, and a boy with skin that had a soft glow to it smiled as he entered.
“You almost finished, Jimmy?” Water asked. “Protein is bored and lifting stuff—I’d like to get Salt into a calmer environment.”
Nicotine stopped smoking his cigarette and flicked it off to the side, his eyes fiery. Literally. “You chose them!?”
“Yeah! What the fuck, Jimmy!?” Caffeine said. His fingers sparked with electricity.
“I’m sorry, guys. I think this is healthier for me. It’s just a better way to be.”
He then, without another word, closed the door, and the vices all looked at each other. More of them formed in the air. Gambling flipped through his book, wondering where he had gone wrong. Sugar hopped up and down in frustration. Painkiller did not do much of anything. Porn did stuff best not spoken about.
Violence looked around at all the others and plotted. One of them had already gone down: Bath Salts having already eaten Fried Food, head first, in the corner of the room.
For you see, the door was locked from the outside. If Jimmy did not come back, they would be there forever.
And none of them wanted that.
Except, of course, Masochism: who looked pleased as punch about the whole thing.
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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